


What's Left

by Annie_Eliza



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst and Tragedy, Bisexuality, Boy Melodrama "BM" Scene (Supernatural), Brotherly Love, Child Loss, Coming Out, Crying, Depressed Castiel, Episode: s14e07 Unhuman Nature, Fluid Sexuality, Grief/Mourning, Grieving Castiel, Grieving Dean Winchester, Grieving Sam Winchester, Homosexuality, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Not Actually Unrequited Love, POV Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester Takes Care of Dean Winchester, Unrequited Love, pansexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 03:34:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16865350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annie_Eliza/pseuds/Annie_Eliza
Summary: Jack's death loomed over their heads like an endless dark cloud, spreading out across the sky, infinite and all consuming. Sam was sure that every bad moment that happened after could be traced back to Jack's light cruelly being extinguished.Even the moment where Dean forgot to put a sock on the door handle.





	What's Left

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for writing this?

While Sam Winchester couldn't say that he had never been a murderer, a thief, a con artist, a failure, or a liar, he could say with (almost) absolute certainty that he tried his hardest not to be a cock block when it came to Dean's hookups. Yeah, he had walked in on his brother a few times - the times he hadn't put a sock on the door knob or warned him in advance, but it had been over ten years since that happened. Then again, neither of them really had one night stands anymore. Sam hadn't slept with anyone in a couple of years, a few blissful but ultimately empty hours with a waitress in the back of the Impala. He had come close with Eileen. He had kissed her and held her until she gently tore herself away at sunrise, only for Sam to never see her alive again. 

 

But he doesn't like to think about that. It had been over a year and even still, every time he thinks of her smile, he feels like his walls have somehow come back in order to try and fail to protect him from the guilt and the hurt those memories brought on. And that death wasn't even the one that had the strongest impact anymore. When he thought about their latest loss, it was always a toss up on whether or not he would start weeping. His most recent losses couldn't be cured with sex or even the comfort of a warm body next to his at night. 

 

So maybe that's why it didn't occur to him that Dean might find someone to bring back to the room, especially when Dean sent no warning text, didn't even manage to put a sock or a tie on the door. That alone should excuse him from walking in on Dean having sex with someone, as well as his surprise regarding the matter too. 

 

And most of all, the other person being a man should give Sam some reprieve when it came to his shock and not immediately making himself scarce. Because honestly? Despite the gentle pokes and prods about Dean's bromances, he never actually thought Dean identified with something other than straight. Dean shouldn’t have felt like he had to keep it from him, nor did Sam ever have any evidence otherwise. But being metaphorically slapped in the face with it by seeing Dean on the bed, on his hands and knees begging for more as some guy just pounded away was pretty ample evidence on that front, to the point where Sam's brain was short circuiting and he couldn’t compute anything anymore. What was more strange was that the guy noticed him first and reacted with more embarrassment than Dean did. Mumbling an apology, the man began to pull out before Dean stopped him. 

 

“Don't you dare stop,” Dean grunted out, pushing back before turning his head to glare at Sam, “Sam, get the fuck out!”

 

Sam gaped at the bluntness of the order before sputtering out an apology, quickly slamming the door, and going back to the Impala. It took him a few minutes to even wish brain bleach was a thing. The fact was, he was too dumbfounded to think much of anything. 

 

After he got past the brain bleach stage and slightly came out of his stupor, an hour had passed and Dean and the man were coming out of the room. The man was the one to pull Dean in for a kiss, but Dean fully reciprocated it, leaning forward and making the kiss last longer when the man initially pulled away. Dean barely gave the Impala a glance. Sam waited until after the man drove out of the parking lot before even attempting to get out of the car. 

 

The steps needed to get to the room felt too fast and too slow all at once. Sam wasn't quite sure why. Through the little processing that he could do in the car, one thing was absolutely clear: Dean was still his brother and there was no reason he should feel ashamed about this. Well, except for not giving Sam some kind of warning. That was just common decency that Dean had blatantly ignored, girl or guy irrelevant. Regardless, Sam knew making a big deal out of it wouldn't be any good, but not pushing Dean a little on the matter might make it so the whole liking guys thing was never spoke of again and that wasn't healthy either. 

 

He wasn't sure what he expected Dean to be doing when Sam actually opened the door, maybe feigning sleep or trying to wait Sam out by locking himself up in the bathroom for a long shower. Both had been done in the past to get out of talking, but neither were the case. When Sam walked in, Dean was in plain view, sitting on the edge of his bed, bottle of Jack in hand as he gulped it down like it was water. 

 

“Uh… hey,” Sam said softly, shutting the door behind him before walking past him to sit on the farthest bed, “So…you uh, you like-”

 

“I like getting fucked by guys,” Dean said, sounding monotone and way too miserable for someone who just got laid, “Those the words you looking for?”

 

“No,” Sam responded, not knowing where to take the conversation anymore, “I wasn't going to say it like that. It uh...It doesn't matter to me what you like...who you like…you...you know that, right? That you could have told me?”

 

Dean gave him a glanced and huffed, “With that passionate seal of approval, how could I fucking not?”

 

The sarcasm would have been more convincing if it weren't for the blush of red creeping up from Dean's neck. 

 

But despite the blush, Sam couldn't help but feel agitated, “You need to give me a minute, man. I wasn't expecting it, in general or tonight. If you had sat me down and just talked to me-”

 

“Like I did back when I was a kid and came out when I thought I was straight?” Dean interrupted, his voice rising, “Oh, right. That doesn't happen. The whole coming out thing is bullshit, Sam. It's awkward and degrading that I should be expected to sit down and discuss my sex life with people like it's some big piece of news that needs to be broken. It's probably why some gay people aren't open about it in the fucking first place.”

 

“Is…that what you think you are? Gay? You've always liked women too. What about bi or pan?”

 

Dean took another swig from the bottle of whiskey and rubbed his face, “I don't know. I thought I was bi…shit, it doesn't matter. None of it matters. It might be a lot more satisfying but I still feel fucking empty.”

 

Sam felt an ache in his chest at the words and before he knew it, he was going over to sit next to his brother on the bed, trying his best not to remember that the sheets hadn't been changed yet. Lifting a hand, he rubbed Dean's back, trying not to feel hurt when Dean flinched at the touch, “I'm worried about you. We…We've all been grieving and hurting like hell. I can…I can get why you might bring someone back to the room if it meant some distraction for a couple of hours. But you've seemed…angry. Hurt more than before. Worse these last few weeks. I…you've wanted to hunt non-stop and we haven't been back to the bunker. I'm worried about Cas and as far as I can tell you haven't talked to him since we left. Dean, he's…he's not taking Jack's death well. You know that better than anyone. He barely says two words when I call him on the phone. Maybe…Maybe we should be there for him. Let him be there for you. He's your best friend and at least when you were around him you weren't-”

 

“Getting fucked by guys?” Dean snarled, turning his head to meet Sam's eyes, “Well, hell. If you are going to compare that to Jack dying and my anger and drinking and Cas's shut down mode, then I should have just said it was a one off and that it would never happen again.”

 

Sam gaped, “Dean, what the hell? You're putting words into my mouth, man. That's not what I'm doing and you know it. I don't want you to go back to pretending to be something you're not, to feeling something you don't. I want you to be happy more than anything. But when you talk about how empty you're feeling-”

 

“I'm done,” Dean said suddenly, swaying as he jumped to his feet, “Nice talk, Sammy. It was the coming out I always dreamed of as a young boy.”

 

“Dean, please. Just…Just give me a minute. You can talk to me. I want you to. I'm really trying-”

 

But Sam's pleading just echoed off the bathroom door. 

\----------------------------------

It ended up being another two weeks before Dean started actually talking to him after that. It was a fucking lonely two weeks, even after they got back to the bunker. Dean made himself scarce and Sam didn't want to intrude on his privacy more than he already had. Cas, as he had since the day after Jack passed away, made himself even more scarce than Dean could manage. As hard as Dean was taking Jack's death, as hard as Sam was taking it, the passing seemed to break something in their friend that couldn't be fixed. Sam had seen Cas get teary on a couple of occasions, once when he was human and trying not to cry as he said he needed to leave the bunker, another after he saved them from Billie, and once when he was moments away from death. When Jack took his last breaths and died surrounded by the closest thing to parents he had, Cas had wept, uncontrollably so, barely able to breathe as if their world had ended, and Dean’s embrace - one so tight that it was almost as if Dean was trying to keep his best friend from falling apart - was futile. And as the weeks and months went on without Jack in their universe, it felt like that sentiment was true. When Dean said he felt empty, Sam was concerned, but he knew exactly what his older brother meant. He felt it too. Without Jack, it was like the light from their lives had vanished. 

 

Up until the hunting stint Dean demanded they go on, Sam had buried himself in running the bunker and training the younger hunters, while trying and failing to find a way to bring Jack back. Cas spent all of his time on that answer too. All of it. Cas didn't need to eat or sleep, but the grief and obsessive searching had obviously taken a toll on him, making him seem gaunt, haunted, and exhausted every time Sam caught a glimpse of him. So while Cas and Sam had their focuses, Dean had made Cas his by trying to get him to take a break, getting him to get some fresh air, even going as far as sleeping in Cas's room most nights just to keep the angel company while Cas read over ancient texts at his desk for days on end. 

 

But a week before their cross country hunting trip, that had all stopped. Dean began locking himself in his own room, lying around in the dark well into the afternoon, before waking up Sam in the middle of the night to tell him to pack a bag. A few weeks in, Sam found out in an almost crude, Dean-like way that Dean was bi - or possibly gay - and now Sam was here. 

 

Alone. 

 

Sam had a picture of Jack on his desk. Before Jack died, it sat in plain view, right between a picture of his parents and a picture of Dean and himself when they were kids, and right below a picture of Dean and Cas, staring at each other like they normally do…or did. But after Jack died, the frame got pushed behind his laptop, sometimes shut inside a drawer when his reality was hitting him particularly hard. The last time Sam seriously thought about having kids was back when he was with Jess. Amelia had mentioned wanting them, something he couldn't bring himself to really discuss with her because the thought of his kids not having an Uncle Dean fucking killed him and at that point, he knew his life would always be a risk to the ones he loved, even when he was completely out of the game. Having children of his own wasn't in the cards and he accepted that. The closest he thought about it in more recent years was when he let a fantasy get to him, one with Eileen where they could take in the kids of hunters who had passed, do something good like Jody had done for the girls. 

 

Never did he think he would help raise Lucifer's son, his torturer's son, with his brother and his friend. Jack was the most non-traditional child he could ever imagine having. He was the best kid he ever met in his life. 

 

As Sam held the frame in his hands, an unexpected sob broke through and he quickly covered his mouth to cover it. Tears splashed against the glass and Sam quickly wiped them away. 

 

“I'm sorry,” Sam choked out, “I'm so sorry, Jack. I miss you so, so much.”

 

It wasn't the first time Sam had apologized to Jack, probably wouldn't be the last either. But the one-sided conversation wasn’t going to go any further, not with Dean walking through the door unannounced. 

 

And okay, that was probably fair with what happened. 

 

“Hey,” Sam cleared his throat as he put the picture away and subtly wiped his eyes, “How uh…how's everything?”

 

Dean didn't answer him at first, instead making his way over to sit on the foot of his bed and stare at him with sad eyes. 

 

“Who were you talking to?” Dean asked, but the way Dean said it, Sam knew he already knew the answer, that there was no point in answering. 

 

“I…I talk to him too, sometimes,” Dean muttered, picking at a loose thread on the comforter, “I ask him to come back, then I threaten Chuck and Amara to bring him back. They haven't responded yet. Guess I'm not all that threatening to them.”

 

Sam didn't know what to say to that. That he's done the same? It seemed pointless to admit to it. Dean had to already know that was the case. 

 

“You talk to Cas yet?” Sam asked instead, turning back around so that he could wipe his eyes without his brother seeing. 

 

“No. Not really, anyway. He's not much for talking things out these days,” Dean said, sad and what Sam thought might be bitter. 

 

“He always talked to you though,” Sam pointed out, “Even when he had no idea what a social cue was.”

 

“He still doesn't,” Dean snorted humorlessly, “Threw out so many fucking hints and lines his way and he was oblivious.”

 

Wait…what was Dean talking abou-

 

“So I manned up,” Dean continued, “Maybe it was bad timing, but I was sick of not making the most of things, enjoying life and the people in it like I should try to. So I told him how I felt about him, what I wanted, over a month ago. Ruined fucking everything. Maybe all those hints I threw his way weren't over his head after all. Maybe he wasn't seeing them on purpose.”

 

Dean paused, seeming to have to gather up the will to even meet Sam’s eyes. But once he did? The heartbreak, pain, and desperation in Dean’s stare was so intense that Sam knew he would bend at Dean’s will if it just meant that his brother wouldn't look at him like that anymore.

 

“I'm just…I know I was a fucking asshole when you walked in on me a couple of weeks ago with that guy, but I was wondering if the offer to talk about everything was still on the table. I don't think I can keep it all to myself anymore. I'm fucking miserable.”

 

Sam wasn't going to say no to that, Dean knew he wouldn't say no to that. Sam had wanted Dean to talk to him for weeks, he had been trying to get Dean to talk about his feelings since they were teenagers, even more so since their father had died. So yeah, Sam wasn't going to say no. He just didn't know how well-equipped he was going to be for the conversation. 

 

“Yeah, Dean. You know it is,” Sam answered, all while simultaneously trying to rehearse validating words in his head, “What's going on?”

 

“Um…” Dean started, wringing his hands together and looking away, “I guess I should come out first. In a way that isn't so bitchy and embarrasing. I'm…well, I don't know, really. I thought I was bi for a long time. Kind of thought I might be when I was maybe 17 or 18, but I definitely liked girls more back then and didn't want to act on it. Then I tried some stuff…It uh…I liked it. A lot. What you saw me doing. Kind of freaked me out, so I didn't do it much. Started getting more into guys after Purgatory, if I had to pinpoint it. I hooked up with guys some more. Not a lot, since I was trying to make sure no one knew about it. But uh…that's part of the reason I don't hook up with women much anymore. There are women that still catch my eye, I guess, but I don't care if I score with them anymore. Haven't for a while now. I…I'm more comfortable with men at this point, I guess. It feels, I don't know...better, I guess. Hell, it's not like I am gagging for the next guy to come along either, but it's closer to what I want, if that makes sense. Shit, even I know that this all doesn't make sense. I sound like I'm a confused teenager.”

 

Dean let out a breath and rubbed at his eyes. Sam gave him a moment, to see if Dean had anything else to say, to take the opportunity to figure out what he should say in response. And it was good that he did since Dean managed to get past the communication block and continue. 

 

“Anyway, bi doesn't seem right now, but gay doesn't either. So there's that. In case you were wondering. Not that it matters,” Dean said, which was something Sam could agree on. 

 

“If it doesn't matter to you, then it doesn't to me,” Sam told him with certainty, “Labels don't always have to be important but if you go with either or something else, then I will respect it. Sexuality can be fluid.”

 

Dean looked at him with suspicion, “You've been on a Google binge again, haven't you?”

 

“I wanted to be prepared,” Sam answered, a little defensively. 

 

“Whatever,” Dean sighed, “I guess that part of the conversation is finished.”

 

Sam nodded, leaning over to give his brother a pat on the knee, “What's the second par-”

 

“I told Cas that I'm in love with him. That I have been for years.”

 

While the words did make Sam stop short, he tried to move past it quickly, “Okay. How…What happened?”

 

As soon as Dean sniffled, Sam knew the answer probably wasn't good. 

 

But when Dean's face crumpled and Sam watched in shock as his brother put a hand over his face? He knew it would be worse than no good. 

 

“I fucking ruined everything,” Dean choked out from beneath his hands. The first reaction Sam had to that was that Dean was probably blowing things out of proportion, that Cas wouldn't let their friendship be ruined over this, even if the feelings ended up not being reciprocated. But Sam bit his tongue and didn't say that. Truth was, Dean getting so emotional about this was a sign that the situation was pretty serious, that even if things weren't ruined, things were definitely strained enough to upset Dean this much. As for Cas…well, Cas hadn't been himself lately. He was broken. A shell of his former self. While Sam wasn't sure how Cas might react to Dean's feelings at his best, he definitely didn't know how he would react at his worst. 

 

So since he had no idea what to think, he didn't respond at first. Instead, he went over to sit next to Dean. While Dean wasn't collapsing in his arms or even really leaning into his touch, he didn't flinch away or tense up like last time. It wasn't much, but it was something, especially when Dean hadn't been this open with him while he was distressed. 

 

“Why do you think you ruined everything?” Sam asked him. 

 

Dean ran his hands over his face, “I put that on him when he's been at his absolute lowest. I don't know what I was fucking thinking. I wasn't, I guess. If I was, then I would have stopped myself, realized there was no way in hell Cas would want to be with me-”

 

Sam stopped him, feeling anger on his brother's behalf bubble in his chest, “Did he say that to you?”

 

“He didn't have to,” Dean insisted morosely, “Why the hell would he want to be with the guy who chicken shit for years over his feelings? Why would he want to be with the person who kicked him out when he was human? And even if he was able to get over that terrible, messed up crap, why in the fuck would he want to be with the guy who made Jack's first several days a living hell? Who would want to be with a person like that?”

 

“Dean,” Sam said, putting his arm around Dean's shoulders, “You also gave Jack the best day of his life. Before Jack died, I talked to Cas about Jack's first week with us. He knows you were taking his death hard at the time, that we weren't sure who Jack was going to be. I can't see him holding that against you, especially when you grew to love Jack just as much as we do.”

 

“I hold it against me,” Dean gasped out, “I can't stop feeling this fucking guilt. I thought if I took care of Cas and was there for him for once, I might start making up for all of the shit I've done. But I couldn't do that without fucking it up. I thought he felt the same way. He said ‘I love you’ before. I made him a mixtape and he took it. I just wanted one thing in my life to feel right. Now it's all wrong.I probably should have been more direct back then. Gotten this shit over with. Maybe if I had told him back then, he wouldn't have told me that he can't go there right now, that he doesn't even want to think about it. Maybe he would have let me down easier and when I don't feel so fucking alone. Because now I don't even have him anymore, not even as a friend, I don't think. Even when I was annoyed with him for not taking a five minute break from researching at 3 am, I slept better in his room than I do in my own. I can't stand feeling like this, Sam. I feel like I'm drowning and have no one.”

 

Sam pulled Dean in, tucking his brother's head under his chin, “You have me. Do you want me to talk to Cas for you? Let him know how this is affecting you?”

 

“No.”

 

Sam let out a sigh, “Okay. Want to stay in here, then? We can share the bed for tonight. Wouldn't be the first time. If you want to bunk with me longer, we can get an air mattress and switch off.”

 

“Okay.” Dean croaked out, only to get under the covers not even a minute later. 

 

While Sam hadn't thought Dean would take him up on the offer, he was glad at least one thing could be solved, however small it was. But even hours after the conversation passed and he and his brother were cramped into a bed too small for two men that were over 6 feet all, Sam felt just as lost as he had before. If anything, their family - or what was left of it - was more fractured than ever.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
